


If Tonight's Our Night, Baby (Just Don't Hurt Me)

by tiny_tuba



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, M/M, Music Major Gabriel, Non-explicit mention of past rape, Past Rape/Non-con, Theatre Major Sam, Trauma Bonding, Working Out My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-28 01:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20770019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiny_tuba/pseuds/tiny_tuba
Summary: A soft trio of college moments that can be a little rough around the edges.or, best friends fall in love during midterms.





	If Tonight's Our Night, Baby (Just Don't Hurt Me)

**Author's Note:**

> I've always related a lot to Sam, and I'm bummed that the show never truly let him deal with his trauma from The Cage.  
Also bummed him and Gabriel didn't make out :/
> 
> Title from Frnkiero andthe Cellabration's ".Blood Infections." even though "Joyriding" is a better song for both Sam & Gabriel. Possibly even "She’s The Prettiest Girl at the Party, and She Can Prove It With a Solid Right Hook" but at this point I'm going to point at every Frnkiero andthe Cellabration song

Sam Winchester had a literature midterm at 8am (in fourteen hours) and despite being on the last chapter he needed to review, he couldn't for the life of him remember a single word. 

Sitting across from him at the library table was his best friend Gabriel Shurley, doodling in his economics textbook. Even without looking, Sam knew he was drawing a dick.

But he _ was _ looking.

Sam glanced out of the corner of his eye after reading each section title, hoping that turning a page was enough of a distraction for Gabriel to not notice that Sam wasn't looking at the book. That was assuming, of course, that Gabriel was paying enough attention to Sam to notice he was thumbing through his textbook (at a rate of roughly one page per fifteen seconds) but _ not _ enough to notice that Sam was staring.

Sam was staring.

He eyed the curve of his chin, the shape of his mouth. Gabriel was handsome, yes. It wasn't just Sam, he had heard plenty from students of various genders in the friend groups that were in Gabe's orbit. He had light eyes and an easy smile, he held himself with confidence and took care with what clothes he wore. Sam could understand why, from an objective point of view, people would think Gabe was attractive– why _ he _ thought Gabriel was attractive. Because Sam really really did. But as he stared, Sam couldn't figure Gabriel out; he was handsome but wasn't… he wasn't devastatingly so. He wasn't ripped, he wasn't tall; Sam tried to think of what else people found alluring. Eyebrows? Voice? Butt?

Gabriel was handsome, but Sam didn't understand how pretty eyes and a pirate smile translated in his brain to _Absolute_ and _Irrevocable_ _Love_.

Maybe not _love_. Definitely a stupid-intense infatuation, at least.

Then Gabriel opened his mouth.

Oh. Oh yeah.

"I've decided. We're not selling these textbooks, Sammy, we're going to have the world's most expensive bonfire. We'll have an old school full moon party where we get wasted on the beach. Just, fire. So much fire and booze. And I'm going to stuff my face so full of s'mores the second this god damned semester is over."

That's why.

"Then, we're going to steal all of my professor's furniture and sell it back at this kind of markup. And then finally, we just burn down the whole school. Salt the earth behind us and ride off into the _fucking_ sunset."

Sam had been wrong. He _was_ in love with the bastard.

Sam's voice came out rough, like he'd been sleeping. Or screaming.

"The last time you tried to have a beach bonfire didn't someone get stabbed?"

Gabriel's lips, well the best way Sam could describe it is that Gabriel's lips curled into a grin, and Sam missed what Gabriel was even fucking saying because he's repeating the words _ Gabriel's lips curl into a grin _ in his head. His brain barely caught up at the tail end of what sounded like a question.

"-yeah?" Gabriel had those eyes on him. _What color are they? Hazel? Light brown?_

Sam snapped out of it and nodded empathetically, eyebrows drawn together– serious. _ Definitely was paying attention to what you're saying because I value our friendship. I agree to what was just said_. Yes. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes and swept his arm across the tabletop, papers crumpling into his backpack and pens rolling onto the floor. Sam brushed rubber bits from his eraser off his study guide and underlined a sentence at random. _Studying hard_. Gabriel huffed and snapped his fingers (goodnaturedly) in front of Sam's face.

"Sam, you just agreed that we're taking a dinner break. Pack up your shit or I'm choppin' your hands off, yeah?"

"Bite me, Gabe." Sam started packing up his homework anyways.

"Oh ho! Theatre kid's got jokes. Maybe later, big boy."

Gabriel and Sam walked to the closest fast food restaurant that was open, bumping (slamming) shoulders in line while they waited.

As they sat down, Gabriel frowned at his phone before placing it face down on the table.

"Everything okay?"

Gabriel shrugged, choosing to slurp his soda extra loud instead of answering. Sam tried a different approach.

"I thought my brother called me yesterday but it was just a butt dial."

At this, Gabriel smiled.

"Not the type of booty call you were hoping for, huh?"

"Just three minutes of car repair noises. What about you, who called you?"

Gabriel pulled a face.

"Dear old Dad. No idea why he'd even bother."

"Jesus, didn't he- uh. Hasn't it been a while?"

"Leave, you mean? Didn't he leave? Yeah."

Sam's hand twitched around the plastic fork he was holding.

"Do you think he got the graduation announcement your mom sent?"

"I'd be surprised if any communication got to him."

"Some kind of miracle and he wants to see your final performance when you play at the ceremony?" He didn't mention that Mr. Shurley had missed Gabriel's three older brothers' graduations.

"Nah, the old man wanted me to do something like journalism– something about bringing a message to the people? Who gives a fuck."

"So he loves that you're a music major, then."

"Oh Sammy boy, over the moon, how'd you know?"

"Yeah, yeah. Your family do that thing where they ask you what you can _ do _ with your degree?"

"Usually I just say porn."

Sam choked on a particularly large forkful of lettuce. Gabriel, ever the good friend, repeatedly smacked him on the back.

"You? Your dad doesn't seem the type to be thrilled about theatre."

"One, most lawyers were theatre majors– they're just performers, all the paperwork gets passed onto assistants. Two, my dad didn't even want me coming here in the first place. No degree is good to him, so I might as well do this for me, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it."

Gabriel nodded, eyes unfocusing as his gaze slid into middle distance. Sam hesitated and lifted his hand to place on Gabriel's… arm? Shoulder? Hand?

Gabriel shook himself and smiled. Sam awkwardly dropped his hand onto the tabletop. Gabriel looked at the hand but didn't say anything about it.

"This got too serious! Open your mouth so I can throw these pickles in it before I start thinking about my life choices."

Sam resolutely did not open his mouth and was rewarded with a pickle chip flung past his head as Gabriel stuck his fingers in his sandwich in front of him.

"Life choices? Gabriel, you don't even order Subway right."

"How do you order Subway wrong?"

"You don't even like pickles!"

"At least I ordered a sandwich, who the hell gets a salad at Subway?"

* * *

As graduation loomed ever near, Gabriel needed to practice. Sam got into the habit of following him to the music building in the afternoons, Sam carrying his rucksack and Gabriel towing his instrument case. He had his own work to do, but preferred Gabriel's company even if they weren't talking.

Gabriel was quiet for once, pulling out slides to grease and valves to oil. He leaned over Sam's leg and blew, emptying his spit valve into Sam's lap.

"Jesus CHRIST, Gabe."

Gabriel laughed, but turned aside and emptied the rest of his spit on the linoleum.

"Aw, don't want to swap spit with me?"

Sam pulled a face.

_Not like that._

Gabe winked.

Gabriel adjusted his posture, took a quick belly breath, and played. It was a scale, just up then down, but it bounced on triplets that managed to sound smug.

He ran through his warmups, impatient. Scales, chromatics, long tones.

"Go through my music folder. Find something you like."

"I don't know whether to have you play the Pirates of the Caribbean medley or your junior year field show."

"Oof, I hated that one."

Sam smiled, still carefully thumbing through the sheet music. He paused.

"Do you still remember that solo you had sophomore year?"

"Probably. It wasn't that complicated."

Gabriel took a slow inhale, bobbing his head slightly to feel the tempo. He played a soft piece, his eyes slipped shut. It felt a little sad (Gabriel had said before that it was because it was in E flat) and Sam blinked away the fullness in his eyes. 

"Why'd you pick that one?"

Sam blinked, again. Gabriel's lips were red. His mouth had a slight indentation from the mouthpiece, but for the most part his lips looked... swollen. A sudden, terrifying moment passed where Sam wondered how soft it would feel to press his own lips against Gabriel's. He could see it, could see himself lean down and kiss him, could almost imagine the curve of his smile against his own. He **_wanted_** that.

Any half-lie joke that Sam had ready to fire was forgotten; he was startled into telling the truth.

"That was the first piece I saw you perform."

Gabriel inhaled slowly and evenly but Sam couldn't remember how to _breathe_.

"'If music be the food of love,'"

"W-what?"

"That was _Twelfth Night_. That was your opening line to first play I saw you perform in."

He wobbled, briefly, into Sam's space. Before Sam could think, before he could react, before he could hope- Gabriel swayed back.

Sam raised a hand to stop him, to say something, but Gabriel already had his horn stowed away, was yanking the folder of sheet music out of Sam's slack grip.

"I-I think I'm gonna bounce. See ya, Sammy- Sam! Sam."

* * *

"I swear to God, my brother and his friends have the worst taste in drinking games." Gabriel shouted, hands warm where they were cupped around Sam's ear. The frat house was loud, the air too thick with the stink of stale beer and sweat to leave any room for sound to travel properly.

Sam was going to ask what they were playing but a voice cried out_ **GET IN THE CAGE **_

"...yep. I just don't see the appeal of _Rage Cage_ when_ Ride The Bus_ exists, you kn– Sam?"

Sam felt his whole body cold before his mind could keep up.

"You okay?"

He couldn't speak. Couldn't cry for help. The smell of beer and the stink of sweat and. And. And.

"I know, I know, you prefer _King's_ _Cup_."

"Gabe I'm gonna," words! Okay, that was good. He could speak. That was good. "Air? I'm gonna get some air."

"Sammy, you want me to go with you?"

Sam waved him off and stumbled to the door. The house's back door didn't open to a yard but led to a pretty sketch alley. It was deserted, which Sam needed. His knees buckled as he fell gracelessly to sit on a parking stop.

His lungs felt tight and he was shaking.

_ Gotta breathe gotta breathe try to breathe try to breathe _

His hands missed his jacket pocket no less than three times, but he managed to pull out a battered carton of Marlboro Reds. One cigarette was quickly stuck behind his ear for later and one dangled from his lips. He patted his other pockets, trying to remember where his lighter was.

The distinct sound of a lighter being lit came from behind him.

"Thought you quit."

Sam turned to see Gabriel cupping a Zippo, arms reaching out. Sam leaned in, letting his own fingertips come up to rest on Gabriel's hands as he lit his cigarette. He inhaled as deep as he could, the lit end flaring a sudden and bright red. He looked up and nodded his thanks.

"Call it a social habit."

He held in a breath, smoke hot in his lungs, held it down as deep as he could. He turned away from Gabriel and exhaled slowly, trying to keep it from blowing back onto his friend. Gabriel pocketed the lighter and sat down next to him on the parking stop.

"Surely you must be joking."

"I'm not," he tried to smile but his face pulled something different. "And don't call me Shirley."

"You're right, Shurley is my name."

"Exactly."

Gabriel reached up and stole the cigarette from behind Sam's ear, before tucking Sam's too-long bangs back behind his ear. Sam tried to keep his breathing steady. He could feel the path that Gabriel's fingertips had made on his skin like his skin was singing.

"Shouldn't you keep your lungs healthy? For playing trumpet?"

"If a smoke every now and then hasn't killed me by now, it isn't _gonna_ kill me."

"You used to smoke?"

"Oh you know me. My sordid Party Gay past with all the bacchinalia and orgies and all that. Hey, come here."

Gabriel leaned towards Sam, cigarette held between his lips.

"Y-your lighter?"

"C'mon Sammy, where's the fun in that?"

Sam leaned into Gabriel, the lit cigarette a sparkle of a reflection in his friend's eyes.

Light brown or hazel, they were pretty.

Gabriel cupped his hands around Sam's own and pressed the end of his cigarette against the lit end of Sam's, inhaling. Gabriel pulled away a few inches, looking down his nose to make sure it was lit. He kept his hands on Sam's.

Sam pulled away slowly, turned away again to exhale. He kept one hand under Gabriel's, his own palm down on the cold cement of the parking stop. It was an out, not keeping Gabe's hand trapped. He could pull away at any moment, run.

Gabriel stayed; used his free hand to _tap tap_ _tap_ his cigarette's ashes.

"Damn, would it kill you to switch to menthols?"

"No, I have to stick to these to personally spite you, jerk."

Gabriel laughed, then took a long drag and puffed out a smoke ring.

"You gonna talk about it?" His tone was serious but not grave. It still made Sam shiver.

Sam glanced at Gabriel. 

"It's not a fun story."

Gabriel opened and closed his mouth, eyebrows drawn down. He squirmed his fingers between Sam's so they were interlocked and _squeezed _ hard.

"I'm not just here for _fun_, Sam. I'm your– I care about you. And sometimes we gotta talk about serious stuff. We've all got our damage, so I'm here if you need me. You dick."

Despite himself, Sam smiled. He squeezed Gabriel's hand back.

"Hard for you to be serious, isn't it."

"Yes. I'm working on it, for you. But that's not important._ Sam _." It was a gentle plea.

Sam could lie. It would be so easy. Lies came first to his mind, words to calm Gabriel down, words to turn the conversation away. A story to explain anything he needed, a lie to make Gabriel laugh. It would be so damn easy. But Gabriel was trying to be serious, was being a good friend. Telling the truth was harder. 

He could do it.

"About a year before we met. I was at a party."

Sam wasn't looking at Gabriel, wasn't looking at their hands, wasn't even looking at the parking lot in front of him.

"It's dumb, but-"

"It really isn't."

Sam gave Gabe's hand a little _thank_ _you_ squeeze.

"Him and all his frat brothers, they've already set up the cups and they're trying to get _Rage_ _Cage_ started. That's what reminded me; small, stupid thing. They kept chanting his name, Lu- it doesn't matter, I didn't know him but he wants to show me how to play, bring me drinks, and. We end up– but I don't want to, and he, and."

Sam made an aborted hand gesture that means nothing and everything, decides instead to take a drag from his cigarette. He could feel Gabriel's eyes on him.

"And then it gets hazy and bad, and then it gets clear and bad. It was Hell. And sometimes all I can think about is did I not fight enough? Did I not say 'no' loud enough? Why wasn't I more careful? Why wasn't I stronger? Why– why me."

"Sam." It's soft but the tone is what killed him. It wasn't pity, damnable pity. He doesn't know what he hopes it is.

"It's just. I feel wrong and dirty and so goddamn– if bad things happen to bad people then what kind of _freak_, what kind of **_abomination_**–"

_ "Sam _."

Sam doesn't respond, instead taking a shaky drag of his cigarette that crumbled at least an inch into ash. He squeezed Gabe's hand again instead of speaking.

"Sam, what happened to you was fucked up but it wasn't your fault. You're not a bad person, it wasn't punishment or penance."

Gabe took a breath.

"Bad things happen to g- all kinds of people."

Sam scrunched up his face, tried to keep the tears in his eyes from spilling. Gabriel ran his thumb over the top of Sam's hand, slowly.

Gabriel spoke again, softly.

"There was this guy my freshman year. His name was Deus, and I don't mean _is_, I mean _was_, the dick's house ended up burning down but-"

"Gabe."

"Oh, yeah. Right, so Deus-"

"You don't have to say it, Gabriel. Not like this, at least."

"He just... made me feel so weak, you know? Worthless. It was torture."

"I'm glad you're safe, now. Here."

"Yeah, transferring out-of-state was kind of like my own personal witness protection, or something."

Sam didn't know what to say, instead turned his hand around so they were palm-to-palm.

"Bad things happen to good people. You're good people, Gabe."

"You're not a bad person either, Sam. You're a good guy- one of the best."

Silence, again, as they both mulled it over. Sam felt like he needed to say something.

He just wasn't sure what.

He was still trying to figure out what to say when Gabriel laughed. He scooted closer to Sam, hip-to-hip and rested their clasped hands in his lap.

"Y'know I heard that for gays, for us, first base is trauma-bonding."

Sam scoffed, "What's second?"

"Oral."

Sam startled out a laugh. It sounded like crying, felt a little like it too.

"Do I even want to know third base?"

"Holding hands?" Gabriel looked down, and for a moment Sam didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed he wasn't looking back at him. He wasn't sure what his own face would show Gabe. Before he could say anything foolish, Gabriel spoke up again, a little softer than before.

"Is this okay, that I'm touching you?"

Sam looked down at their hands, Gabriel's looked small next to his own. They looked different from the hands that sometimes still left phantom pains when he slept.

He ground the butt of his cigarette under his boot and Gabriel did the same.

"Yeah this is, it's you. You're safe."

A beat of silence as Gabriel nodded, thinking. Sam watched as his face dropped, just the smallest amount, just enough to make Sam's heart pound.

"It's not that I _tolerate_ it. I_ like _this. I-I like, I like you holding my hand, Gabriel. I like holding your hand."

Gabe nodded, head bopping for a moment before turning to look at Sam, _really_ look at him.

"I like you."

Sam smiled, big and broad and sudden. 

"That's gay."

"Yeah, Sam, that's kind of the point."

"I like you, too."

Gabriel's lips curled into a smile and Sam let himself wonder how it would feel to press his mouth to that curve.

"Winchester you must be joking?" Gabe wiggled a bit as he asked.

"I thought it was 'surely'?"

"Nah, I think I should take your last name. Sam Shurley sounds awful."

Kissing that smile was just as good as he had hoped.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you have to write emotional healing that you want for yourself.  
Also, _Ride The Bus_ is the superior drinking game.


End file.
